


Afterglow

by spooklock



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Afterglow, Bottom Aziraphale, Bottom!Aziraphale, Fix It, Getting Together, Hotel Room Sex, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Apocalypse, Smut, Sweet Sex, Tenderness, Top!Crowley, after the apocalypse, lunch at the Ritz, top crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooklock/pseuds/spooklock
Summary: Inspired heavily by a tumblr post (@ineffable-endearments and commenters). Crowley and Aziraphale don't make it to lunch before they make it to bed.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands - Relationship
Comments: 25
Kudos: 402





	Afterglow

Crowley took his hand as they stood from the bench. They both wobbled- still a bit lightheaded after the switch back. It took several shaky steps before Aziraphale felt his knees begin to work again. Crowley felt the lasting tingles in his fingertips.

Neither said anything, but the switch- and the switch back, for that matter- felt quite familiar. A satisfactory jolt of energy resulting in fatigue and a certain level of bliss. Being what they were, two celestial creatures with a taste for worldly indulgences, neither were unfamiliar with such a sensation.

They had not, however, expected the feeling in those moments. The first time may have been a fluke, and anyway, they were distracted with the plan- and its potential failings and consequences- ahead. But here, in the park, with nothing but time and freedom ahead of them?

It couldn't be ignored.

They walked with obvious tension. Desperately trying to read one another. Did he feel it? Does he want to do something about it? Does he think of me in that way? Would he want to know me like that?

"The Ritz, then?" Crowley asks in the car.

"Oh- oh yes. That would be lovely."

Crowley pulls away, reaching again for Aziraphale's hand. It had sort of just happened earlier, the hand thing. But Aziraphale hadn't let go, so he figured it was alright.

Crowley's face is set with deep lines and thought as he drives. Six thousand years of wanting and now is his first real chance. He always imagined how he would want it to go, but never thought they might have the chance. He never pictured this particular circumstance. He has no idea what to do with it.

Aziraphale looks around. At their clasped hands. At Crowley's face. Out the window. At his own reflection in the mirror. His hand in Crowley's was a good sign, yes, but he wanted it not to end there. To die off after lunch in a cloud of confusion and stubborn cowardice. But what to do?

Crowley parks near the hotel and turns the key, silencing the engine. It's far too quiet. And no one moves.

Ninety seconds of anguished panic pass, and they both speak at once.

"Angel-"

"Crowley, I-"

They face one another sheepishly.

"Uh, um...go ahead, angel."

"Well, I- I thought, perhaps...best to ..best to f-freshen up? Before lunch?"

Crowley stares blankly, then it clicks.

"Yes, I think that's an excellent idea."

Crowley walks to the front desk, Aziraphale in tow, still attached at the hand.

"A suite, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, sir." The receptionist takes his name and card, and a bell boy appears to lead them to their room.

The man swipes their key card and begins to open the door to show them around, but Crowley has no patience for it. Thank goodness.

"Yes great thanks, we can take it from here."

As the door shuts behind him, the bell boy understands Crowley's dismissal; he takes Aziraphale up in his arms immediately, lips sealing as the door shuts.

Aziraphale sighs a relieved moan into his mouth. Crowley's hands command his waist immediately, leading him through the room.

"Finally..."

Aziraphale's legs hit the bed frame and they both fall gently to the downy white bed. Crowley's mouth smears hot, slow kisses over his neck.

"What do you want, angel? Anything. Name it."

Aziraphale pauses, whispering his request once he gathers the courage.

"Make love to me."

Crowley exhales sharply, gasping. He freezes, taking a moment to gather himself.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely nothing else would do. Not now. Not after-everything."

Crowley tastes his mouth again. Tastes the words he just heard. Savors them. He brings them both to sitting positions and removes everything he can from the waste up. Then he guides Aziraphale back onto the bed, removing first his own trousers, and then Aziraphale's.

Crowley just barely touches his face, tracing the soft pad of one finger from temple to chin. Their foreheads rest together, noses slotted side by side. They breathe and pause, and breathe again.

"Say it again." Crowley cant believe its real.

"Make love to me, Crowley."

When Crowley does, it's good. It's beyond words, really. To want someone you assume you will never have for six thousand years only to finally, actually, abruptly get them? How else could it feel? What else could it be, but perfec?

Aziraphale, it turns out, has quite the thing for Crowley's hair. He holds onto it for dear life, with both hands even, as Crowley moves with him.

Aziraphale sighs, again and again. With relief, with satisfaction. With joy and exclamation. He feels Crowley lever him up with a hand on his back, sitting cross legged on the bed with Aziraphale in his lap. Aziraphale sinks back down, a quiet little "oh" leaving his mouth. He sounds almost surprised- as though Crowley feeling just as good the second time as he did the first were unexpected.

Crowley flexes his thighs and jerks his hips up sharply. The "oh!" That follows is a statement of shocked realization. Of course he does.

Aziraphale breathes shallow, in and out in tiny gaps as Crowley holds his hips and moves them in sync. His eyes fall shut, head falling forward weakly onto Crowley's shoulder.

"I love you." It slips out entirely on it's own. Aziraphale barely realIzes he's said it until Crowley responds, "I love you too, angel."

He jerks sharply again, driving upwards with new depth. Crowley begins to feel it again, that shooting bolt of energy. His fingers tingle as he gulps audibly. Aziraphale gasps, feeling his partner stiffen and pulse just once inside him.

The thought, just the thought of feeling Crowley come like this does it for him. Aziraphale's hand finds his own hair this time, brushing it back as his face falls into the most gorgeous expression Crowley has ever seen.

Head tipped back, eyes shut gently, Aziraphale's mouth falls open, lips and cheeks flushed pink. Crowley's vision goes white as he clamps his mouth onto Aziraphale's shoulder, trying to quiet his uncontrollable sobs.

They pant together, goosebumps and aftershocks keeping them still. Aziraphale wipes tears from his own eyes, then sees Crowley in a similar state and does the same for him.

In the soft quiet, Crowley kisses the bite mark he left and apologizes.

"I quite enjoyed that, actually."

Crowley looks at him with mischevious eyes. "You surprise me so often, angel."

When the most potent of the aftermath wears away, they do freshen up for lunch. Crowley attempts to fix his hair, deciding to.leave it after it betrays him. He doesn't mind the suspicions.

The afterglow lasts them straight through lunch. Through their journey back upstairs where the plan was to nap. And all the way through the next several.hours of exhausted, glowing lovemaking.


End file.
